


live a little crazy

by blvkebellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bellarke January Joy, Coffee Shops, F/M, Supernatural Elements, and clarkes a witch?, and low key bad, it's kinda a mess, its a thing :D, okay so bellamy is a grumpy coffee shop dude, sorry if characters are ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blvkebellamy/pseuds/blvkebellamy
Summary: Bellamy Blake is a serious, real adult who almost definitely has his shit together. He sleeps before midnight, he manages a café, and although he does laugh at the occasional dick joke he would still consider himself mature. He does his fucking taxes, which is basically a certificate of adulthood. As a serious adult, he isn’t really concerned with the supernatural.At least until Clarke showed up.





	live a little crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pawprinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawprinter/gifts).



Bellamy Blake is a serious, real adult who almost definitely has his shit together. He sleeps before midnight, he manages a café, and although he does laugh at the occasional dick joke he would still consider himself mature.  _ He does his fucking taxes,  _ which is basically a certificate of adulthood. As a serious adult, he isn’t really concerned with the supernatural, in the sense that he respects it enough to leave a Ouija board alone, although he wouldn’t go to a witch doctor to magically fix all his problems. It was a good balance, and it worked for him.

Working at the café wasn’t particularly hard or gruelling, rather it was a calm melody. Falling into a rhythm was easy; getting an order, making a drink, and serving it was a skill he had honed while working at The Dropship. He could make latte art, and it was pretty damn good in his humble opinion.

The café was located in an area full of bookstores and thrift stores. It was a good spot, but it attracted many hipsters who were too good for Starbucks and had to get their overpriced coffee at a local establishment. Bellamy couldn’t complain; it was good for business.

The customers at The Dropship were aggressive at worst and unremarkable at best. One of the most memorable occasions was when a woman came in demanding a free sandwich, claiming to be the manager’s wife. When the cashier working the counter – a well-meaning although slightly clumsy boy named Jasper – informed her that he couldn’t do that, she then reportedly “fucking flipped out, man.” After calling Bellamy to confirm that he did not, in fact, have a secret wife, the woman promptly stormed out while promising to give them a terrible review on Yelp.

There have been only a few other incidents that were as bad as that, so, all in all, it was a pretty good place to work. 

\--

It started on a Wednesday. Lunch hour had just finished, and there was a lull in the crowd. Bellamy began wiping down the counter, as he always did, just like clockwork. Just as he was reloading the coffee machines, he heard the bell above the door chime, signalling a customer.

Soft steps approached the counter as Bellamy put down the rag and turned to get their order. “Hi, what can I get –”

A strong breeze cut off the rest of his sentence as menus and flyers whirled through the shop. The customer – a woman about his age – squeaked and hurriedly tried to catch anything that came within a five-foot radius around her. In the midst of the chaos, Bellamy heard Miller enter the shop, whisper, “What the fuck,” and promptly exit back into the break room.

A few minutes later, the breeze died down. Bellamy arranged everything he had into a pile before abruptly remembering that there was a customer. “Are you alright?” He asked, absent-mindedly checking her over from where he was behind the counter. “That doesn’t usually happen.” Her blonde hair had fallen out of her bun, settling haphazardly on her head. As she realised the state she was in, her nose wrinkled in annoyance. Her lips curled up to try and blow the hair out of her face but all that did was move it slightly to the left. It was… cute. 

“I’m fine. Just – weirded out a bit,” she replied, chuckling nervously as her hands moved up to smooth her hair down before pausing, glancing towards the flyers still in her arms. She did an awkward shuffle, moving to place the papers down but stopping when she noticed the still-wet coffee stains decorating the counter.

“Here, let me get those for you,” Bellamy said, reaching over to pluck them out of her arms. There was a small intake of breath from Clarke when his hands brushed hers but she stiffened, visibly forcing herself to relax. 

Bellamy glanced around, trying to find the source of the draft. He finally pinned it on an open window that he must have forgotten about. “So, what can I get you?” Bellamy repeated, pulling a menu from the pile of flying papers and handing it to her. 

“Can I get a caramel macchiato and a blueberry muffin?”

“Sure. And a name?”

“It’s Clarke.”

“Coming right up, Clarke,” he smirked, delighting as her face grew pink.

He rang her up and started working on her macchiato, barking a quick order at Miller to get his ass out and help him. They make quick work of the drink and he heard Miller hand her macchiato over with a muttered warning of “it’s hot.” 

He watched Clarke settled down into a table in the corner, taking the lid off the cup and blowing the steam away as she stirred in the cream. She then took a generous sip before wincing at the pain. He grinned as she glared at her cup, features twisted in annoyance. It was as if she had caught the cup planning her death. A second later, the steam disappeared, and when she took another sip, there was no wince of pain.

It took a second to process what had just happened, and even then he knew it was no cause for alarm. So the drink had cooled down; he probably spaced out and was staring for longer than he intended. Even though he was sure it was a trick of the light, he asked Miller if he saw anything, to which Miller told him to “stop being a fucking creep, Blake,” which was always solid advice.

Still, it didn’t stop him from dwelling on it.

\--

It had been a week since the steam debacle and Bellamy had all but forgotten it. It was rush hour, and he and Octavia were working the counter. The bustle of customers kept him busy, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Bellamy watched as a familiar head of blonde hair made its way through the line until it stopped right in front of him. “Hey. Clarke right?” Bellamy said, putting the change in the till. 

“Uh, yeah. You remember?” She said, seeming genuinely surprised that Bellamy remembered. 

“We faced a mini tornado together. We now have an unbreakable bond,” Bellamy answered, face deadpan. 

“It wasn’t that bad. At worst a baby cyclone.”

“I’m not sure that’s any better,” Bellamy laughed. “What would you like today?”

“Caramel macchiato and a blueberry muffin, please.”

He passed the order to Octavia and told Clarke to wait at the other counter. As he was ringing another customer up, he saw Clarke get jostled by a surly businessman and drop her muffin, accidentally stepping on it. He started to wonder how he would be able to get another muffin to her (totally not because he thought she was adorable) when he saw that it was in her hands. Whole and not smashed at all. 

He stared as she left, trying to work out a logical explanation for what had just happened. She had a muffin. It was stepped on. Then it somehow… wasn’t anymore. 

“I need a vacation,” Bellamy muttered, turning back to a slightly annoyed customer who chided him on the wait time. Bellamy apologised without thinking, still occupied with the thought of what he had just seen. He was probably just tired, despite the fact that he slept at nine o’clock and no longer functioned primarily on caffeine. There was just no other explanation. Maybe he saw another woman drop her muffin, although there were no crumbs on the floor suggesting that. 

When rush hour ended, he turned to Octavia. “Did you see anything weird today?” Bellamy asked, really hoping she did so he wasn’t completely out of his fucking mind.

“An old man had like, four pigeons on him. He wasn’t fazed at all. It was weirdly calming.”

“No not like that. I mean… something you couldn’t explain.”

“I saw a lady pick out all the sesame seeds on her bagel even though she could have just ordered a plain bagel. I can’t explain her thinking but in hindsight maybe she was just high.”

“No, just – nevermind.” Bellamy sighed, feeling defeated.

“Why, did you see something?”

“Just – there was this blonde girl? Clarke? I thought I saw something but it’s probably nothing.”

Octavia gave her brother a comforting pat on the back. “Don’t think too hard. Your brain’s not used to it,” Octavia said, laughing and dodging when Bellamy threw a tea towel at her. It still didn’t distract him completely, but he would have to drop it for now.

\--

At this point, Bellamy was sure he saw something. He had checked the security footage and saw her drop her muffin, but before he could see how she fixed it, a woman walked in front of her, obscuring his view. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Now, he had a plan. Befriend Clarke with various sweet treats and hopefully gather up the courage to ask her if she was magical or if he was just crazy.

The next time Clarke came in, he was armed with multiple conversation starters and new desserts for her to taste. He must’ve been lucky, since she came in on a slow day, with the only other customer practically sleeping on one of the comfy couches. 

He took Clarke’s usual, taking a few moments to set everything up before bringing it to her. As she went to settle in a seat, he quickly went to the back to grab an apple crumble – a new recipe he was trying out – and strolled to her table, trying to exude confidence. He dropped down in the seat in front of her and he was  _ sure  _ her sketchbook and pencils righted themselves on their own.

“Hey, Clarke,” Bellamy greeted, nudging the apple crumble towards her. “I need a favour.”

“If it requires me to get out of this chair the answer is a solid no, even with our unbreakable bond,” she retorted, smiling at his surprised laughter. The lights flickered but he barely noticed, choosing to catalogue the slight crinkle in Clarke’s eyes when she smiled.

“You can stay seated, I promise. I just need you to try this for me.” 

Clarke’s eyes finally looked down at the crumble, then flicked back up to him. “Sure, but why ask me?”

“The only other customer is in a deep sleep and my coworker is extremely biased against me. The only other option is you.”

“Good answer, but before I accept food from you, I feel like I should at least know your name.”

“I’m Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.”

“Clarke Griffin,” she supplied, and they shook on it. The moment their hands touched, Bellamy felt a short spark that was quickly washed away by the warmth of her hands. A light in the café went out with a pop, and he heard Octavia groan at the thought of replacing it. Clarke’s eyes widened, her hands coming up to cover her face briefly. Before Bellamy had the chance to ask what was wrong, she had already started to stuff her face.

“This tastes like my humour,” Clarke stated after eating the entire crumble in a bite. Bellamy could admit that he was slightly intimidated but mostly impressed by the display.

“And that’s… a good thing?”

“It’s dry but good.” She looked up as Bellamy got the joke and caught him burying his head in his hands at her pun. She laughed until she was shaking, clearly enjoying his apparent disgust.

“That was a terrible joke and I regret ever feeding you,” Bellamy said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Hey, I was just being honest!” Clarke protested, her residual giggles still going through her body.

As Bellamy was about to reply, the bell chimed, reminding him he actually had a job to do. “I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah. See you, Bellamy Blake.”

\--

Days of watching Clarke do semi-magical things (that could also be passed as Bellamy having no object permanence) pass, and he was still no closer to figuring out if he was just crazy or not. He does know, however, that he liked Clarke as more than a friend, so that was nice.

Bellamy decided he needed to get drunk to get his mind off of things. Normally, he would just go to a bar and drink with Miller, but Octavia had other plans. A friend of hers – Raven, if he wasn’t mistaken – was hosting a party and Bellamy – according to Octavia – needed to attend. It wasn’t his idea of a good time, but he was flexible.

They were among the first guests to arrive, and Bellamy immediately headed for the drinks. Being a fairly responsible person and the so-called “mom friend” of his group, this was out of the ordinary for him. Given the past week, however, he felt like he deserved the right to let loose.

He was more than a little drunk when he spotted Clarke, her blonde hair practically a beacon. He looked around the room, eyes frantically searching for a dark spot he could hide himself in to avoid any drunken confessions. Before he could make himself scarce, Clarke had caught sight of him and practically lit up. In fact, he was sure she was actually glowing, or maybe he just had too much to drink.

“Hey Bellamy,” Clarke said, a bit breathless since she had to navigate through the wave of bodies.

She was looking up at him, and Bellamy knew he had to construct a sentence that perfectly conveyed how he felt and the fact that he thought she was magical.

“Hi. You’re pretty and glowing and I think you’re magical,” Bellamy stated, all of the words falling out of him in a rush. Well. That was one way to do it.

Clarke turned red and muttered what sounded like “I thought I was subtle.”

She turned to him and grabbed his hand, leading him outside. The cold air helped sober Bellamy up, which he was extremely grateful for since this was something he wanted to remember.

There was an awkward silence in which Bellamy waited for Clarke to speak. After what felt like an eternity, Clarke sighed and started talking.

“I’m a witch, basically. That's the best term for it, I guess. I normally have better control over my powers but it does slip sometimes,” Clarke revealed. Bellamy felt dizzy with relief. He wasn’t going crazy! That was always a great revelation.

“Do you know why it slips?” Bellamy asked, now curious and excited to learn as much as possible.

“It normally happens around people I wanna… date,” Clarke murmured, the last word soft and nervous. 

“Like me?”

“Like you.”

“Hold on a sec. So that day we met – that breeze?”

“I didn't expect you to be that cute,” Clarke mumbled, covering her face with her hands. Bellamy felt warm with glee, his face breaking out into a smile he couldn’t seem to stop.

Bellamy moved in front of her and tilted her chin to look at him. “I would kiss you but I’m really drunk right now and I would really like to remember all of this,” he whispered, matching her tone. Clarke let out a breath, the tension dropping out of her shoulders.

“That’s fine. We can always postpone it,” Clarke grinned, starting to glow once more.

Bellamy took in her smile, the light in her eyes, and the way her hair fell. The soft glow soothed his mind, the sounds melting away to a drone in the background.

“Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
